A Portrait of a Gentleman
by Autumn Rose 18
Summary: This is a story of two people as seen through the eyes of a third. Perry Mason had spent a long, tedious afternoon interviewing witnesses for a case, and meeting with the DA. Not happy spending so many hours out of the office, the silver lining was the rendezvous arranged at Charlotte's Cafe after work. It promised to lift his mood. Little did he know what else would transpire...


_**A/N : **Thank you to everyone who has commented on my earlier stories. I'm glad you liked them and I'm grateful for the kind reviews._

 _I also wish to say a big Thank You to RBHDPSMMK4EVER who has supported and encouraged me with this story, and been such a wonderful Beta!_

 **A Portrait of a Gentleman**

Matthew Collins sat in his favourite table at his favourite cafe and savoured his cup of rich creamy coffee as if it were his first of the day, instead of his fifth. In his twenties he would spend his days near the cafes and tourist attractions of many popular cities so that he could make money from the passing trade. Matthew had graduated from Art College with high ambitions to be another Monet or Renoir, but quickly found being a starving artist was not as romantic as it sounded. So to make money, he sold paintings to tourists and would earn commissions for portraits.

That was over thirty years ago, and since then he had retired from his more well-paid job as a professional graphic designer. Retirement bored him and so to amuse himself, he reverted to his original passion which was portraiture. He took on occasional commissions when it interested him, but his main hobby was sketching people; usually strangers. He was by nature a people-watcher, and this kept his eye and mind busy whilst also being a source of mental relaxation. When he was younger, he would quickly sketch tourists and they would buy the pictures as a memento of their trip. Now he did this for fun and could take as much time as he liked, didn't have to part with the pictures, and was under no obligation to flatter the subject.

Matthew had drawn, sketched and painted thousands of faces over the years – some were formal poses and others were painted from memory, but he preferred sketching people who were completely unaware of his presence. That way, he would be free to pick and choose the subject and they would not be consciously posing or trying to convey a particular image to him. Because they were not aware of him, Matthew felt he could capture something about them that was actually there in that moment – something that they were not conscious of or fully aware themselves. After all, no-one really knows just how much of themselves they convey to an observer. This is what he loved – finding something - an expression, or a mood in a complete stranger and capturing it on paper: a moment in time to be recorded for posterity.

'Charlotte's Cafe' was a perfect venue for his hobby because it was located very close to the administrative district of the city and so office workers and court officials were always coming and going during the day. It was also very close to the theatre and so the evening turnover of diners was also very high. So many faces to look at, weigh up their interest to him, and then to draw if he felt so inclined. He was a regular and the staff were used to him sitting there all day or all evening with his pencils and pads. They were happy for him to draw or paint there as he never disturbed their other customers. If they noticed him at all, they just saw an older gentleman with thinning silver hair, dark glasses and a brooding expression, pencil smudges on his shirt sleeves, and a concentration they rarely tried to interrupt.

It was 6.30 in the evening and he had almost decided to leave after his coffee, but his attention was drawn to a man who had just entered and taken a table not too far from him. From the back, all he noticed was that he was a large man, well dressed in dark suit and overcoat, carrying a briefcase in one hand and he seemed to be walking very slowly. Matthew glanced at him over the rim of his coffee cup as he removed his coat, laid down his case, and took a seat facing the window and door. As he turned to look at the door, Matthew was drawn to this man's face immediately. His coffee was laid aside, and he quickly took up his sketch pad and pencils that were always by his side, and started to make a study of this stranger.

He could see that the man was in his late sixties, possibly early seventies, and although much of his face was obscured by a silver beard with flecks of black, he was fascinated by the man's unusually large blue eyes and his expression. This is a face that needed to be drawn, he thought to himself. He squinted a little as he observed his subject and started work. With a quick eye he began to make a basic outline of the man's profile while he tried to discern his character. Here was someone very smartly dressed in a charcoal grey suit and blue tie, but the presence of the briefcase would indicate that he has left work late rather than being early for an evening function. He is sitting alone but the glances at the door and his watch led him to conclude that he was waiting for someone. As he is showing no sign of impatience, he must be early rather than the other person being late.

As he studied his subject, he could sense that although the man was calm, he was also a little on edge by the way he barely drank his coffee but would idly move it around the saucer instead. An automatic smile was given to the waitress, who approached his table requesting his order, but he politely dismissed her and then the smile faded once more. The slightly bowed head gave Matthew the feeling that this was a man who felt he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that puzzled and intrigued him because he was clearly at an age where he was choosing to work rather than having to work. So where did this inner worry and anxiety come from?

Matthew was enjoying this study because with each glance at this gentleman, he thought he could divine something else about him through something as simple as the movement of his eyes, the fidgeting of his fingers, or the stroking of his beard. For the drawing, some lines were softened here and there, others adjusted or made bolder so that he could incorporate the developing facets of this man's character to his work.

He worked on the beard, trying to find the real contours of the man's face, and his observation led him to consider that whilst he had an aura about him of someone very engaged in his surroundings, and of success, yet he also had an air of reserve. Unconsciously he stroked his own beard as he concentrated on his task. Thinking of the number of men he knew with beards, including himself, he considered that this man's sense of reserve could have led him to choose a beard because he thought it would mask his features and expressions from outside scrutiny.

If that were the case, then his subject was misinformed. Now that Matthew could see his face more clearly, he could sense a sadness and vulnerability in this man due to his faraway gaze, lost in his own thoughts. Those eyes were definitely windows to his soul and they were an artist's dream and challenge to interpret. What was it that made this man appear outwardly so strong, yet have this vulnerable brooding expression in his eyes? What makes this man 'come to life'? he wondered as his pencil and charcoal flew across his page. The expression was fleeting, but still, as he studied those eyes, he could sense that uncertainty in the man. He worked quickly, capturing the contours of his face, the many lines that indicated that this man had led an interesting life, and he used all his skill to try and capture the depth and character of those deep blue eyes.

Who was this man waiting for, he speculated. On his initial appraisal, he had noticed that his subject was not wearing a wedding ring. This didn't necessarily signify anything though as not all married men wore wedding rings, but it was nevertheless something that he noticed about people. Cynical as he had become over the years from observing older men, he speculated whether he was waiting for a younger woman to arrive. An attractive twenty-something who would be happy to flatter an older man's ego, or perhaps would not be happy about it but knew it was expected of her anyway. Matthew had seen it so many times on so many evenings that it saddened him each time because he could see the empty hollow look in the girls' eyes, and the foolish, pathetic or often lecherous look in the men's eyes. He wouldn't want to draw that – it was too cheap and depressing to want to capture.

Just then, as if someone was reading his mind, the gentleman looked up as the cafe door opened. In walked a beautiful young lady of twenty nine or thirty, with long blonde hair and wearing an attractive just-above-the-knee green evening dress under a long dark green coat. She had a fixed smile on her face as she came closer to the table and Matthew felt his heart sink. He didn't know the man he was drawing but he had instinctively judged him to be a gentleman and didn't want this image to be 'ruined'. He felt ridiculously happy when the young lady continued walking and was greeted by a young man further back in the cafe.

When she passed by, Matthew looked at his subject and saw that he had barely glanced at her, and neither did his eyes follow her as she passed him – unlike those of the other men present – even those seated with other ladies. No. This young lady held no appeal for him. And this made him doubly curious as to who would excite the interest of this man. Was he just uninterested in this young women, or perhaps he was the type that is less interested in people than he is in work, or some other pursuit.

His portrait was complete and he felt quite satisfied with it, but his curiosity would not be satisfied until this man's guest arrived. By now he would usually leave 'Charlotte's' and go home, but he beckoned the waitress to order another coffee as he had absently taken a drink of the one on his table and realised it was now stone cold!

His patience was rewarded just two minutes later.

The door opened and he could see a lady enter and look rapidly around and smile as she headed for a table. She was probably in her late fifties, maybe early sixties, but he couldn't see too clearly just then. She was wearing a long stylish black coat, which was smart but unremarkable, and she also had a handbag and brief case with her, so she too looked as though she had come from an office. As soon as she came closer, he observed the gentleman look up and recognise her, and then he glimpsed the lightning quick change in the other man's expression.

His features immediately softened, losing the edges of deep concentration and abstraction of only a few minutes ago. With his pencil still in hand, Matthew quickly took the opportunity to capture this man's likeness again. This would be a new portrait – almost a new man – the transformation was so startling and heart-warming.

His eyes barely left the man and this woman but his pencil was carefully yet quickly capturing the more relaxed features of the once sombre man, and the dimples that had appeared on his face, which he would have sworn earlier, had not existed! Attention was once more focussed on the blue eyes which were now sparkling with light and life and how they lifted his face and gave him a more youthful and happy aura.

Matthew observed how when she approached the table, the man immediately got to his feet to take her bag and to embrace her. He caught sight of the slightest of kisses as his lips brushed her rich dark curls that had been ever so slightly windswept. It was so chaste and yet...and yet there was an energy that sizzled between them. She turned to sit in the chair that was held out for her and so Matthew could now clearly see the object of this man's affection. Her face briefly held a shy blushing expression in response to the gentleman's kiss and courteous gesture, and an admiring smile immediately covered Matthew's face.

This lady- and he instinctively knew she was every inch a lady, had one of the most dazzling and beguiling smiles he had ever seen and he paused to admire it, and to remember. His wife Natalya had looked at him with that a similar expression of love, and he had painted her over and over in adoration. It was times like this that he really missed her and cherished her memory.

This unknown lady was beautiful and Matthew no longer wondered why the gentleman had waited for her, and why his face had lit up with such love and joy. Neither did he wonder why the man had not paid the younger lady any attention earlier. Clearly he only had eyes for this lady.

In seconds, his critical eye examined this lady's face, so artistically framed by her dark curls. Her eyebrows were perfectly sculpted and there was a certain 'something' about those eyes. They were magnetic and soulful, and again their round shape reminded him forcefully of his Natalya.

As with the gentleman, this lady's portrait demanded to be drawn and he obeyed his instincts. Her cheekbones were remarkable, and he quickly sketched and shaded to capture her beauty and emphasise the softness of her skin as well as of her expression. The nose was slender and gave her a very ladylike profile, but his attention kept being drawn to her mouth which seemed to be in a perpetual smile since she arrived. The lips were a deep dusky pink, complemented by the colour in her cheeks, and they, with the light in her eyes, endowed her face with a youthful and animated expression. He must endeavour to capture this look, Matthew thought to himself as he blended his colours and attempted to capture as much as he could of her character.

Whoever this lady was, she exuded gentleness and softness for the gentleman opposite her. Theirs was indeed a reciprocated love, he decided with certainty. When the gentleman turned away to give another order to the waitress, he saw that the lady's eyes never left his face and the happy contented smile remained.

Elegant fingers were revealed as she peeled off her black leather gloves. Matthew smiled as ladies rarely wore gloves these days, yet back in the fifties and sixties, every lady wore them. He was also quick to notice that whilst she wore a deep purple amethyst ring on her right hand, and what appeared to be a dark stone in a pinkie ring, her ring finger was not so adorned. That was interesting, he mused, since he found it hard to believe that this lady was unmarried, but then the light caught the gentleman's hand and he could see what appeared to be a similar pinkie ring. Ahhh, he nodded and smiled to himself in understanding.

This petite lady clearly had a tremendous power over this large man and could clearly soften his demeanour. Just moments before, he had been deep in thought; his eyes held a world-weary expression, and in her presence he was positively transformed. Matthew wondered to himself whether she knew just what an effect she had on this man, and if others appreciated it too? Did she know just how much he must have been anticipating her arrival?

He continued studying this lady and felt that he had not fully done her justice but he thought that he had managed to capture a look of love, devotion and shyness in her expression. He also deduced from their outward mannerisms that this was a couple who did not intentionally give public displays of affection, and so he felt privileged to catch a glimpse.

He felt very proud of these pictures, but as he sipped his coffee and watched them again, he thought to himself "whoever this lady is, she deserves to have these pictures". Having made the decision, he slid the papers into a spare envelope and beckoned a waiter over. "Jack, there is something I'd like you to do for me..." he said in a low voice.

Moments later Jack approached the lady and gentleman's table as requested and cleared his throat to interrupt their conversation. "Excuse me madam, but I've been asked to give this to you" he said smoothly and left her with the large envelope addressed to 'The lovely Lady with the enchanting smile – table 8'.

Matthew had paid his bill but he couldn't resist a last look at the couple he had just become so invested in, and he heard a snippet of their conversation.

The gentleman looked curious and asked "What is it Della? Were you expecting anything to be delivered here?"

Matthew smiled 'Ahh Della! Lovely name for a lovely lady' he thought to himself.

Della shook her head "No Perry, but look at this" and showed him the curious envelope as she removed the contents. They both read the covering note:

'Dear lady, please forgive the intrusion but I thought you deserved to know just how much your companion clearly adores and loves you. I took the liberty of sketching him before and after you joined him. You should cherish what you have and what you inspire. I don't know either of you, but as an artist, I just felt that your faces showed so much and needed to be recorded. Please enjoy these drawings with my compliments to you both.'

Della and Perry were both touched by the sentiment of the note and looked blindly around the cafe to see if they could identify and thank the anonymous donor; but to no avail. Della gasped and put her hand to her mouth as she looked at the exquisite portraits of Perry. She could see so much of the man she loved in these pictures and was amazed at how much the artist had divined about this complex man. It was as if he had managed to look into part of his soul when he was in a contemplative and intense mood. She had had opportunities to observe Perry when he was unaware of her presence, but this picture was so powerful to her.

As she looked at the second portrait of both Perry and herself, tears came to her eyes at the look of love so perfectly captured in Perry's face and in her own. "I just...they are...I mean, .they are wonderful Perry. I will treasure these pictures of you always" she stammered with emotion and awe as she reached unconsciously to caress his hand.

Perry was equally in awe of the fact that a stranger had been able to draw out so much about them and was amazed at how much of his character could be observed. 'So that's what Della calls my "faraway" look' he thought to himself. Being very self-conscious of his own appearance, his attention was more greatly focussed on Della's portrait and he very highly admired it. He squeezed her hand then brought it to his lips and said with emotion "Della my dear, look at your portrait. _**Now**_ will you believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful?" Della blushed at his compliment and looked shy as she shook her head. "Oh Perry, don't...", but he continued – she needed to know the truth. "Della, listen to me. This picture captures so much of your grace and beauty, but even _it_ cannot compare to the real thing which I have the privilege of admiring every single day!"

With that he leaned forward and captured those dusky pink lips in the tenderest kiss.

Neither cared whether this was a public place or not. Neither of them noticed the gentleman with the silver hair, dark glasses and pencil smudged hands pulling on his hat as he left the cafe; the man with a satisfied smile on his face. He saw the kiss and thought to himself 'I hope that lady will always make him this happy, and that they will forever bring love and joy to each other as they do today'

His work was complete and he felt very rewarded for his efforts.

The End


End file.
